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LAPSLIS CALAMI 



Cambrtigt : 

PRINTED BY C. J. CLAY, M.A. AND SONS, 
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. 



LAPSUS CALAMI 



BY 



J. K. S. 



MACMILLAN AND BOWES 
1891 

[AH Rights reserved] 



^^"^7^ 






PIO FUNDATORI. 



Post quatuor iam lustra deponens togam, 

lam iam futurus rusticus, 
alumnus olim, vile consecro tibi, 

Henrice rex, OPUSCULUM. 



APUD JEMAKAU, 

id. Mart, mdcccxci. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

To C. S. C 1 

To R. K 3 

A Political Allegory 4 

The Grand Old Pipe 8 

Drinking Song . . . . . . . . 10 

COMBI SONGS. 

Coll. Regal 13 

Boating Song ......... 15 

The Littlego ......... i-j 

CIRCUIT SONGS. 

To T. A 21 

To T. M. W 22 

ELECTION SONGS. 

An Election Address 25 

God Save Ireland 28 

The Found Leader . . . . . . . 29 

SINCERE FLATTERY. 

I. Of F. \V. H. M. 

1. To One vSmoking 33 

2. To A. T. M 34 

II. Of R. B. 

1. To A. S 36 

2. The Last Ride together .... 38 

3. Midsummer 42 



Vlll 


CONTENTS 


III. 


Of W. W. (Americanus) 


IV. 


Of VV. W. (Britannicus) . 


V. 


Of T. G 


VI. 


Of Lord B. . . . 


VII. 


Of A. H. C. . 


VIII. 


Of W. S. (Sir) . 


IX. 


Of W. S. (Mr) . 


X. 


'Ofxrtpov .... 



PAGE 
43 

44 
46 

49 

52 
56 

59 
60 



THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED 
DIFFERENTLY, ERRORS OF JUDGMENT AND 
IMPROMPTUS. 

To W. H 65 

4th July, 1882: at Malines: Midnight .... 66 

Drowning Fusee . . . . . . . . 67 

Incompetent Ballad- Monger ...... 69 

Triolets Ollendorfiens . . . . . . . 71 

To D. J. S. 

1. On the Fly-Leaf of Treasure Island . . 72 

2. On the Fly-Leaf of Maclise's Portrait Gallery . 73 
The Philosopher and Philanthropist .... 74 

The Critic's Speech ....... 75 

To my Friend's Wife . . . . . . . 77 

Time's Revenges . , . . . . . . 78 

Koln, 5 July, 1882. 6.30 a.m 79 

To a Friend ......... 80 

A Thought 81 

Lines at the River Side ...... 82 

Facilis Descensus Averni 83 

Early School 85 

Lines written at Private ...... 86 

An Election Address . . . . . . . 87 



To C. S. C. 



Oh, when the grey courts of Christ's College glowed 

With all the rapture of thy frequent lay, 

When printers' devils chuckled as they strode, 

And blithe compositors grew loudly gay : 

Did Granta realise that here abode, 

Here in the home of Milton, Wordsworth, Gray, 

A poet not unfit to cope with any 

That ever wore the bays or turned a penny ? 

The wit of smooth delicious Matthew Prior, 

The rhythmic grace which Hookham Frere displayed, 

The summer lightning wreathing Byron's lyre. 

The neat inevitable turns of Praed, 

Rhymes to which Hudibras could scarce aspire, 

Such metric pranks as Gilbert oft has played, 

All these good gifts and others far sublimer 

Are found in thee, beloved Cambridge rhymer. 

S. I 



And scholarship as sound as his whose name 

Matched thine (he lives to mourn, alas, thy death, 

And now enjoys the plenitude of fame. 

And oft to crowded audience lectureth, 

Or writes to prove religion is the same 

As science, unbelief a form of faith) : — 

Ripe scholar ! Vergil's self would not be chary 

Of praises for thy Carjiieii Seculare. 

Whene'er I take my "pint of beer" a day, 

I "gaze into my glass" and think of thee: 

When smoking, after "lunch is cleared away," 

Thy face amid the cloud I seem to see ; 

When "that sweet mite with whom I used to play," 

Or "Araminta," or "the fair Miss P." 

Recur to me, I think upon thy verses, 

AVhich still my beating heart and quench my curses. 

Ah, Calverley ! if in these lays of mine 
Some sparkle of thy radiant genius burned. 
Or were in any poem — stanza— line 
Some faint reflection of thy muse discerned : 
If any critic would remark in fine 
"Of C. S. C. this gentle art he learned;" 
I should not then expect my book to fail, 
Nor have my doubts about a decent sale. 

Fall Mall Gazette, March ^th, 1891. 



To R. K. 

As long I dwell on some stupendous 

And tremendous (Heaven defend us !) 

Monstr'-inform'-ingens-horrendous 

Demoniaco-seraphic 

Penman's latest piece of graphic. 

Browning. 

"Will there never come a season 
^Vhich shall rid us from the curse 
Of a prose which knows no reason 
And an unmelodious verse : 
When the world shall cease to wonder 
At the genius of an Ass, 
And a boy's eccentric blunder 
Shall not bring success to pass : 

When mankind shall be delivered 

From the clash of magazines, 

And the inkstand shall be shivered 

Into countless smithereens : 

When there stands a muzzled stripling, 

Mute, beside a muzzled bore : 

When the Rudyards cease from kipling 

And the Haggards Ride no more. 

Cambridge Review, Feb. 1891. 



A Political Allegory '\ 

Once there was a famous nation 

With a long and glorious past : 
Very splendid was its station, 

And its territory vast : 
It had won the approbation, 
The applause and admiration, 
Of the states who'd had occasion, 
In a time of tribulation, 
And of disorganisation. 
Not to mention degradation, 
And profound humiliation, 

To observe 'it standing fast 
Without any trepidation, 
Or a sign of vacillation. 

Firm and faithful to the last. 

Came a time of dire distraction, 

Full of terror and despair, 
When a delicate transaction 

Called for unexampled care : 
But the people were directed, 
Both the well and ill-affected, 
To a wholly unexpected 

* From " A Wreath of Song " Ijy the Lotos Chib, Cam- 
bridge, Deighton and Bell, 1880. 



5 

And surprising course of action, 
Based on motives new and rare 

(Being governed by a faction, 
As they generally were). 

In a little time the nation 

Had a chance of saying whether 
It and its administration 

Seemed inclined to pull together : 
And it spoke its mind with vigour : 

" Such disgraceful conduct must 
Everlastingly disfigure 

Future annals, and disgust 
Evermore the candid student : 
You have been unwise, imprudent. 

Pusillanimous, unjust. 
And neglectful of the glory 

Appertaining to our name 
Till this melancholy story 

Put a period to our fame." 

So this faction, disappointed. 
Lost the national good graces, 

And their rivals were anointed, 
And were set in the high places. 

Pretty soon arose conditions 
Most embarrassing and hard, 

And the party politicians 

Had to be upon their guard. 



Illegitimate ambitions, 
Democratic rhetoricians, 
Persons prone to base submissions, 
Men of warlike dispositions, 
Wild and wicked statisticians, 
Metaphysical magicians, 
People apt to sign petitions. 
Men inclined to make conditions, 

And a host of wary foes. 
Compassed round the ruling faction : 
But a certain line of action 

They incontinently chose : 
And with great determination, 
And extreme discrimination, 
Not untouched by exaltation, 
After proper preparation, 
And profound examination, 
\\'rought it out with acclamation, 
And each other's approbation. 
Till the national taxation 

Not unnaturally rose. 

To the nation now occurred an 

Opportunity of saying 
What they thought about the burden 

Which the government was laying 
On their shoulders : and they said it 

In uncompromising terms : — 
" Your behaviour would discredit 

Tigers, crocodiles and worms : 



/ 

You have ruined and disgraced us, 
And successfully effaced us 
From the proud commanding station 
Where the zeal and penetration 

Of our ancestors had placed us. 
Go ! we are a ruined nation ; 

But before our dissolution 
We pronounce your condemnation — 

Sappers of our constitution, 
Slayers of our reputation ! " 

But the nation — mark the moral, 

For its value is untold — 
During each successive quarrel 

Grew and prospered as of old. 



The Grand Old Pipe. 

I have ceased to believe in the Leader 

Whom I loved in the days of my youth : 
Is he, or am I the seceder? 

It were hard to determine the truth. 
But my enmity is not impassioned : 

I'll forgive and forget if I can, 
And I'm smoking a pipe which is fashioned 

Like the face of the Grand Old Man. 

It was made in the days when his collars 

Were still of the usual size, 
And before the recipients of dollars 

Were known as his trusted allies : 
But I love, as I lounge in the garden. 

Or work at my chambers, to gaze 
At the face of the master of Hawarden, 

As he was in the Grand Old Days. 

My pipe was my one consolation 

When its antitype kindled the flame 
Which threatened the brave population 

Of Ulster with ruin and shame : 
I forgot that our ruler was dealing 

With scamps of the Sheridan type. 
While the true orange colour was stealing 

O'er the face of my Grand Old Pipe. 



Did his conduct grow ever absurder 

Till no remnant of reason seemed left? 
Did he praise the professors of murder? 

Does he preach the evangel of theft? 
When he urges our eloquent neighbours 

To keep other men's land in their gripe, 
Grows he black in his face with their labours? 

Well, so does my Grand Old Pipe. 

For the sake of its excellent savour. 

For the many sweet smokes of the past. 
My pipe keeps its hold on my favour, 

Tho' now it is blackening fast : 
And, remembering how long he has striven. 

And the merits he used to possess, 
And his fall, let him now be forgiven. 

Though he has made a Grand Old Mess. 

Reflector^ Jan., 89. 



lO 

Drinking Song. 
To A. S.* 

There are people, I know, to be found, 

Who say and apparently think 
That sorrow and care may be drowned 

By a timely consumption of drink. 

Does not man, these enthusiasts ask, 
Most nearly approach the divine 

When engaged in the soul-stirring task 
Of filling his body with wine ? 

Have not beggars been frequently known 
When satisfied, soaked, and replete. 

To imagine their bench was a throne 
And the civilised world at their feet? 

Lord Byron has finely described 

The remarkably soothing effect 
Of liquor, profusely imbibed. 

On a soul that is shattered and wrecked. 

In short, if your body or mind 

Or your soul or your purse come to grief, 
You need only get drunk, and you'll find 

Complete and immediate relief. 

For myself, I have managed to do 
Without having recourse to this plan. 

So I can't write a poem for you, 

And you'd better get someone who can. 

RcJlecto7-, Jan., 91. 
* Who had asked for one, to set to music. 



COMBI SONGS, 1880. 



Coll. Regal. 



(Air: GauJcuDiits igitiir.) 

Gaudeamus igitur 

Juvenes dum sumus : 
Post jucundam juventutem, 
Post molestam senectutem, 
Nos habebit humus. 

Vivat Academia! 

Vivant Professores ! 
Vivat membrum quodlibet ! 
Vivant membra quaelibet ! 

Semper sint in flore ! 

Floreat Collegium 
Quod audit Regale! 

Vivat Oscar Browningus ! 

Vivat Georgius Prothero ! 
Et Arturus Tilley! 



14 

Floreat Praepositus, 

Maximus Augustus ! 
Floreant Bursarii, 
Austen Leighi varii, 
Fredericus Justus ! 

Aequam servent animam 

Arduis decani : 
Tu Etona floreas ! 
Floreant CoUegeri ! 

Vivant Oppidani ! 

Vivat J. K. Stephanus, 

Humilis poeta I 
Vivat Monty Jamesius, 
Vivant A, B, C, 1), E 

Et totus Alphabeta ! 



15 
Boating Song. K.B.C. 

Lent iSSo. 

(Air: It's a fine hunting day.) 

On a damp windy day 

In tempestuous May, 

In a most insufficient attire, 

What a pleasure to row 

For a furlong or so, 

And to glow with a patriot's fire : 

There is glory to win in the fray, 

There are crowds to applaud all the way, 

^Ve shall very soon be 

At the top of the tree 

If we all go out every day. 

Chorus. 
Let's all go out every day 
From now till the middle of May : 
^Ve shall very soon l)e 
At the top of the tree 
If we all go out every day. 

By the top of the tree, 

As I think you must see. 

It's the head of the river I mean : 

An appropriate place 

For our vessel to grace 

And at which she will shortly be seen : 



i6 



There are still a few boats in the way, 
But Rome is not built in a day, 
And I have not a doubt 
We shall bring it about 
If we all go out every day. 
C/iorus. 

Says our captain, says he : — 
" May you all of you be 
Dissected and roasted and skinned : 
Five rowed with his back 
In the shape of a sack 
And then, when I swore at him, grinned 
Six, get those hands sharper away ! 
Keep your eyes in the boat there, I say ! 
Now get on to it, do ! 
Get that body down, two ! 
Your time's worse than ever to-day." 
C/iorus. 

Both our Tutors are there, 
Neither pleasure nor care 
Can keep them away from the scene : 
And who shouteth so loud 
In that jubilant crowd 
As each blown but uproarious Dean ? 
The Provost brings down Mrs A., 
Who runs a good part of the way ; 
Oscar Browning himself 
Throws his gown on the shelf 
And dismisses his staff for the day. 
C/nv//s. 



17 



The Littlego. 

(Air : Kaphoozehivi .) 

When I was young and wholly free 

From any vice, however nice, 
And did not yet aspire to he 

Where men of beer and skittle go. 
My young idea used to shoot, 

Secure and gay, from day to day, 
Until I met that hideous brute 

The fiend-descended Littlego. 

Chorus. 
Oh ! the Littlego, the Littlego, the Littlego ! 
Oh ! the Littlego, the daughter of the Devil ' 

Alas, poor victims that we are, 

Who sport beside the Cam's clear tide, 
Before we get us to the Bar, 

To Church or to Hospital go, 
We study Mr Paley's views, 

We have to deal with yards of steel. 
We likewise woo the tragic muse. 

And all to pass the Littlego. 
Clwriis. 

I too, like other men, was coached, 
Was duly packed with fact on fact, 

And then that awful hall approached 
Where all who live by victual go : 

S. 2 



i8 

They ploughed me once, they ploughed me twice, 

I won't say when those cruel men 
Desisted, but let this suffice : 

I did get through the Littlego. 

Chorus. 

I feel inclined to prophesy 

That this effete and obsolete 
And hydra-headed pest will die 

And to perdition it '11 go ; 
They'll substitute for complex plans 

Incontinent abolishment, 
And only antiquarians 

Will care about the Littlego. 

CJiorns. 

But still at that appalling hour 

When churchyards gape, a hideous shape 
Behind me moved, by unseen power, 

Like some debauched bandit, '11 go : 
Enveloped in a Paley sheet, 

It waves on high an x+y, 
And dogs me down each dismal street — 

The spectre of the Littlego. 

Chorus. 



CIRCUIT SONGS, 1890. 



I. To T. A. 

(Air : Barbara Allen.) 

In Pembrokeshire where I was born 
Were many maidens dweUing, 

But all of them were quite forlorn 
For love of Thomas Allen. 

All in the merry month of May, 

When green buds they were swelling, 

Some twenty-six on their death-beds lay, 
For love of Thomas Allen. 

Then slowly slowly Tom rode round, 
And one by one did eye 'em ; 

But all that Tom could find to say 
Was : — These poor girls are dying. 

And so in course of time they died, 
And all of them were buried, 

Excepting one, and she survived. 
And that one 'J'homas married. 



22 



2. To T. M. W 



(Air: Drink to vie oily.) 

Drink to me only with thine eyes and I'll pledge 

thee with mine, 
Leave but some coffee in thy cup and I'll not ask 

for wine. 
A circuit dinner, as I know, doth ask a drink divine, 
Yet would I scorn the mess champagne, could I get 

but that liquor of thine. 
I sent thee late a prosy brief, not so much honouring 

thee, 
As in the hope that thou wouldst work and I should 

get the fee. 
Thou sent'st it back : it was endorsed with judgement 

against me. 
'Tis still unpaid and smells I swear of lemonade 

and tea. 



ELECTION SONGS, Dec, 1890. 



An Election Address, Dec. 1890. 



(Air: TJic Wearing of the. Grceti.) 

Kilkenny dear, and did ye hear this most surprising 
news ? 

Here's three bould men come coortin' you and which 
can you refuse? 

A bigger and a bloodier fight has never yet been 
seen, 

And they're breaking one another's heads in Com- 
mittee Room fifteen. 

I met Chief Justice Healy and I took him by the 
hand : 

"Oh ! how is ould Ireland, and how does she stand?" 

Potatoes rot and peasants pine : disthress will soon 
be seen : 

And they're breaking one another's heads in Com- 
mittee Room fifteen." 



26 

Dear Dillon and O'Brien bould, as I have heard 

men tell, 
Have gone to North Amerikey, their resources for 

to swell; 
But they're coming back to prison and the try-your- 

weight machine, 
And to break the other fellows' heads in Committee 

Room fifteen. 

There's Disunited Ireland (but that same has been 
suppressed) : 

There's some " cowardly little scoundrels " and a 
nicely feathered nest; 

There's lots of cash in Paris, and the wigs are on the 
green, 

And they're breaking one another's heads in Com- 
mittee Room fifteen. 

There's bloody Arthur Balfour, that priest-destroying 

man, 
'Tis he that passed Coercion, and does all the harm 

he can, 
A blacker and a baser brute there never yet has been, 
And he chuckles o'er the broken heads in Committee 

Room fifteen. 

He gets upon an outside car, — 'tis he that has the 

power — 
Goes up and down the land and seeks for what we 

may devour — 



27 

And bedad we're glad to see him, and 'tis he hkes 
being seen, 

And they're breaking one another's heads in Com- 
mittee Room fifteen. 

And here is Mr S , and who the deuce is he? 

And what's he after doing, and why would he be M.P.? 
For he first says "God save Ireland!" and then "God 

save the Queen ! " 
And he blackguards tliim bould fighting bhoys in 

Committee Room fifteen. 



28 



God Save Ireland ! 

(Air : Tramp, Tramp, Tramp.) 
On the fatal gallows tree 
Stood the bloody-minded three 

Who had done to death the inoffensive Brett : 
But the fact that they were hung 
Is as worthy to be sung 

As their wickedness is worthy to forget. 
Chorus. 
God save Ireland from the Land League ! 
God save Ireland from Parnell ! 

Whether on the gallows high 

Or the battle-field they die, 
What matter? they are sure to — come to grief. 

Men have figured in the dock, 
And behind the prison lock, 

Who were fitter for the gallows than the cell : 
But the hardest thing they've seen 
Is the try-your-weight machine 

Or a prison suit which doesn't fit them well. 
C/ionis. 

They disgrace their country's name, 
And they know no touch of shame; 

They promote the crimes they never dared have 
done; 
But failure and disgrace 
Now stare them in the face, 

Their discreditable course is nearly run. 
C/iorus. 



29 



The Found Leader. 

(Air : Molly Malonc.) 

'Tis Justin Macarthy 
That now leads our party : 

He was born in the beautiful city of Cork : 
He has wrote for quare papers, 
And cut some quare capers, 

And got through a wonderful deal of loose talk : 

He once drove his barrow 
Through streets wide and narrow 

Singing novels, bad novels and other bad books: 
And other bad boo-ooks 
And other bad boo-ooks, 
Singing novels, bad novels and other bad books ! 

He consults pretty freely 
With Timothy Healy, 

And is mighty polite to the former Lord Mayor : 
And he'll often be sighing 
That William O'Brien 

And good Mr Dillon can never be there : 

But he once &c. &c. 



30 

The devices of Parnell 
Are truly infarnal 

And he fights like a man with his back to the 
wall : 
But the divil is in it 
If Justin can't win it, 

For bedad he can keep the commandments and all : 

But he once drove &c. &c. 



SINCERE FLATTERY. 



I. Of F. W. H. M. 



I. To One that smokes. 



Spare us the hint of sHghtest desecration, 

Spotless preserve us an untainted shrine ; 

Not for thy sake, oh goddess of creation, 

Not for thy sake, oh woman, but for mine. 



S. 



34 



2. To A. T. M. 

See where the K., in sturdy self-reliance, 

Thoughtful and placid as a brooding dove, 

Stands, firmly sucking, in the cause of science. 
Just such a peppermint as schoolboys love. 

Suck, placid K. : the world will be thy debtor; 

Though thine eyes water and thine heart grow 
faint. 
Suck : and the less thou likest it the better ; 

Suck for our sake, and utter no complaint. 

Near thee a being, passionate and gentle, 
Man's latest teacher, wisdom's pioneer, 

Calmly majestically monumental, 

Stands : the august Telepathist is here. 

Waves of perception, subtle emanations. 

Thrill through the ether, circulate amain ; 

Delicate soft impalpable sensations. 

Born of thy palate, quiver in his brain. 

Lo ! with a voice unspeakably dramatic, 
Lo ! with a gesture singularly fine, 

He makes at last a lucid and emphatic 

Statement of what is in that mouth of thine. 



35 

He could detect that peppermint's existence, 
He read its nature in the book of doom ; 

Standing at some considerable distance ; 

Standing, in fact, in quite another room. 

Was there a faint impenetrable essence 

Wafted towards him from the sucking K. ? 

Did some pale ghost inform him of its presence ? 
Or did it happen in some other way? 

These are the questions nobody can answer, 
These are the problems nobody can solve ; 

Only we know that Man is an x\dvancer : 
Only we know the Centuries revolve. 

Reflector, Jan., iS88. 



36 

II. Of R. B. 

I. To A. S. 

Birthdays ? yes, in a general way ; 
For the most if not for the best of men : 
You were born (I suppose) on a certain day : 
So was I : or perhaps in the night : what then ? 

Only this : or at least, if more, 
You must know, not think it, and learn, not speak : 
There is truth to be found on the unknown shore, 
And many will find where few will seek. 

For many are called and few are chosen, 
And the few grow many as ages lapse : 
But when will the many grow few: what dozen 
Is fused into one by Time's hammer-taps ? 

A bare brown stone in a babbling brook : — 
It was wanton to hurl it there you say : 
And the moss, which clung in the sheltered nook 
(Yet the stream runs cooler), is washed away. 

That begs the question : many a prater 
Thinks such a suggestion a sound "stop thief!" 
Which, may I ask, do you think the greater, 
Sergeant-at-arms or a Robber Chief? 



37 

And if it were not so? still you doubt? 
Ah ! yours is a birthday indeed if so. 
That were something to write a poem about, 
If one thought a little. I only know. 



P.S. 

There's a Me Society down at Cambridge, 
Where my works, cum notis variorum, 
Are talked about ; well, I require the same bridge 
That Euclid took toll at as Asinorum : 

And, as they have got through several ditties 
I thought were as stiff as a brick-built wall, 
I've composed the above, and a stiff one /V is, 
A bridge to stop asses at, once for all. 

Cambridge Meteor, June, 1882. 



38 

2. The Last Ride together. 

(From Her point of view.) 

When I had firmly" answered "No," 
And he allowed that that was so, 
I really thought I should be free 
For good and all from Mr B., 

And that he would soberly acquiesce : 
I said that it would be discreet 
That for a while we should not meet : 
I promised I would always feel 
A kindly interest in his weal ; 
I thanked him for his amorous zeal ; 

In short, I said all I could but " yes.' 

I said what Fm accustomed to ; 
I acted as I always do ; 
I promised he should find in me 
A friend, — a sister if that might be : 

But he was still dissatisfied : 
He certainly was most polite ; 
He said exactly what was right. 
He acted very properly, 
Except indeed for this, that he 
Insisted on inviting me 

To come with him for " one more last ride. 



39 

A little while in doubt I stood : 

A ride, no doubt, would do me good : 

I had a habit and a hat 

Extremely well worth looking at : 

The weather was distinctly fine : 
My horse too wanted exercise, 
And time, when one is riding, flies: 
Besides it really seemed, you see, 
The only way of ridding me 
Of pertinacious Mr B. : 

So my head I graciously incline. 

I won't say much of what happened next : 
I own I was extremely vexed : 
Indeed I should have been aghast 
If any one had seen what passed : 

But nobody need ever know 
That, as I leaned forward to stir the fire, 
He advanced before I could well retire, 
And I suddenly felt, to my great alarm. 
The grasp of a warm unlicensed arm. 
An embrace in which I found no charm ; 

I was awfully glad when he let me go. 

Then we began to ride : my steed 
Was rather fresh, too fresh indeed, 
And at finst I thought of little, save 
The way to escape an early grave, 

As the dust rose up on either side. 
My stern companion jogged along 
On a brown old cob both broad and strong : 



40 

He looked as he does when he's writing verse, 
Or endeavouring not to swear and curse, 
Or wondering where he has left his purse : 
Indeed it was a sombre ride. 

I spoke of the weather to Mr B. : 
But he neither listened nor spoke to me : 
I praised his horse, and I smiled the smile 
Which was wont to move him once on a while ; 

I said I was wearing his favourite flowers : 
But I wasted my words on the desert air. 
For he rode with a fixed and gloomy stare : 
I wonder what he was thinking about : 
As I don't read verse, I shan't find out : 
It was something subtle and deep, no doubt, 

A theme to detain a man for hours. 

Ah ! there was the corner where Mr S. 
So nearly induced me to whisper " yes " : 
And here it was that the next but one 
Proposed on horseback, or would have done, 

Had his horse not most opportunely shied : 
Which perhaps was due to the unseen flick 
He received from my whip : 'twas a scurvy trick, 
But I never could do with that young man: 
I hope his present young woman can. 
Well, I must say, never, since time began, 

Did I go for a duller or longer ride. 

He never smiles and he never speaks : 
He might go on like this for weeks : 



41 

He rolls a slightly frenzied eye 
Towards the blue and burning sky, 

And the cob bounds on with tireless stride. 
If we aren't at home for lunch at two 
I don't know what Papa will do ; 
But I know full well he will say to me 
" I never approved of Mr B. : 
' It's the very devil that you and he 

" Ride, ride tos;ether, for ever ride." 



42 



3- Midsummer. 

Persons at various times have said 

That the hot dank steam of a sun-scorched day 
Is a thing to thank God for : strike me dead 

If I let such a falsehood lack its nay. 

When Philip of Spain or our own red Mary 
Desired to be rid of an impious man, 

Did t\i&y freeze him to death? they were not so chary 
Of man's worst weapon, the frying pan. 

The fire, or the frying pan — well, the adage 

Tells us the difference is but small. 
And the fact remains that in that last bad age 

When man had all torture-tricks at call, 

They knew what was best and did it duly, 

And broiled those most whom they loved the least. 

Man, is it thou that hast proved unruly? 
They are broiling thee, thou sinful beast. 

Languid and frenzied, most despairing 

When least's to despair at, such we grow. 

When the sun's rays down on our heads, naught 
sparing, 
Burn and blister. I'd have you know 

I have strung together these sad reflections 
To prove to my tutor, a stern stark man. 

That my chance of a decent place in collections 
Drooped and died when the heat began. 

Eton Rambler, Jitiie ^th, 1880. 



43 



III. Of W. W. {America mts). 

The clear cool note of the cuckoo which has ousted 

the legitimate nest-holder, 
The whistle of the railway guard despatching the 

train to the inevitable collision, : 

The maiden's monosyllabic reply to a polysyllabic 

proposal. 
The fundamental note of the last trump, which is 

presumably I) natural ; 
All of these are sounds to rejoice in, yea to let 

your very ribs re-echo with : 
But better than all of them is the absolutely last 

chord of the apparently inexhaustible pianoforte 

player. 

Ftv. 1891. T/ic Gran fa. 



44 



IV. Of IV. IV. {Britannicus). 
Poetic lamentation on the insufficiency of 

STEAM LOCOMOTION IN THE LaKE DISTRICT. 

Bright Summer spreads his various hue 

O'er nestling vales and mountains steep, 
Glad birds are singing in the blue, 

In joyous chorus bleat the sheep. 
But men are walking to and fro, 

Are riding, driving far and near, 
And nobody as yet can go 

By train to Buttermere. 

The sunny lake, the mountain track, 

The leafy groves are little gain. 
While Rydal's pleasant pathways lack 

The rattle of the passing train. 
But oh ! what poet would not sing 

That heaven-kissing rocky cone. 
On whose steep side the railway king 

Should set his smoky throne ? 

Helvellyn in those happy days 

^Vith tunnelled base and grimy peak 
Will mark the lamp's approaching rays, 

And hear the whistle's warning shriek : 
Will note the coming of the mails, 

And watch with unremitting stare 
The dusky grove of iron rails 

Which leads to Euston-square. 



45 

Wake, England, wake ! 'tis now the hour 

To sweep away this black disgrace — 
The want of locomotive power 

In so enjoyable a place. 
Nature has done her part, and why 

Is mightier man in his to fail? 
I want to hear the porters cry, 

" Change here for Ennerdale ! " 

Man ! nature must be sought and found 

In lonely pools, on verdant banks ; 
Go, fight her on her chosen ground. 

Turn shapely Thirlmere into tanks : 
Pursue her to her last retreats, 

And if perchance a garden plot 
Is found among the London streets, 

Smoke, steam and spare it not. 

Presumptuous nature ! do not rate 

Unduly high thy humble lot, 
Nor vainly strive to emulate 

The fame of Stephenson and AVatt. 
The beauties which thy lavish pride 

Has scattered through the smiling land 
Are little worth till sanctified 

By man's completing hand. 

Pall Mall Gazette, Nov., i88 



46 



V. Of T. G. 



Ode on a retrospect of Eton College. 

Ye bigot spires, ye Tory towers, 

That crown the watery lea, 
Where grateful science still adores 

The aristocracy : 
A happy usher once I strayed 
Beneath your lofty elm trees' shade, 

With mind untouched by guilt or woe 
But mad ambition made me stray 
Beyond the round of work and play 

Wherein we ought to go. 

My office was to teach the young 

Idea how to shoot : 
But, ah ! I joined with eager tongue 

Political dispute : 
I ventured humbly to suggest 
That all things were not for the best 

Among the Irish peasantry : 
And finding all the world abuse 
My simple unpretending views, 

I thought I'd go and see. 

I boldly left the College bounds : 
Across the sea I went. 



47 

To probe the economic grounds 

Of Irish discontent. 
My constant goings to and fro 
Excited some alarm; and so 

Policemen girded up their loins, 
And, from his innocent pursuits,— 
Morose unsympathetic brutes,— 

They snatched a fearful Joynes. 

Escaped, I speedily returned 

To teach the boys again: 
But ah, my spirit inly burned 

To think on Ireland's pain. 
Such wrongs must out: and then, you see. 
My own adventures might not be 

Uninteresting to my friends: 
I therefore ventured to prepare 
A little book, designed with care, 

To serve these humble ends. 

Our stern head-master spoke to me 

Severely :— " You appear 
" {Horresco refer ens) to be 

"A party pamphleteer. 
" If you must write, let Caesar's page 
"Or Vergil's poetry engage 

"Your all too numerous leisure hours 
" But now annihilate and quash 
"This impious philanthropic bosh: 

"Or quit these antique towers." 



48 



It seems that he who dares to write 

Is all unfit to teach : 
And literary fame is quite 

Beyond a master's reach. 
I dared imprisonment in vain : 
The little bantling of my brain 

I am compelled to sacrifice. 
The moral, after all, is this : — 
That here, where ignorance is bliss, 

'Tis folly to be wise. 

Pall Mall Gazette, Nov. 17, 1882. 



49 



VI. Of Lord B. 



A Grievance. 

Dear Mr Editor : I wish to say — ■ 

If you will not be angry at my writing it — 

But I've been used, since childhood's happy day, 
When I have thought of something, to inditing it : 

I seldom think of things : and, by the way. 
Although this metre may not be exciting, it 

Enables one to be extremely terse, 

Which is not what one always is in verse. 

I used to know a man, — such things befall 

The observant wayfarer through Fate's domain : 

He was a man, take him for all in all. 
We shall not look upon his like again : 

I know that statement's not original : 

What statement is, since Shakspere ? or, since Cain, 

What murder? I believe 'twas Shakspere said it, or 

Perhaps it may have been your Fighting Editor. 

S. 4 



50 

Though why an Editor should fight, or why 
A Fighter should abase himself to edit, 

Are problems far too difficult and high 
For me to solve with any sort of credit : 

Some greatly more accomplished man than I 

Must tackle them : let's say then Shakspere said 
it: 

And, if he did not, Lewis Morris may 

(Or even if he did). Some other day, 



When I have nothing pressing to impart, 
I should not mind dilating on this matter : 

I feel its import both in head and heart. 
And always did, — especially the latter : 

I could discuss it in the busy mart 

Or on the lonely housetop : hold ! this chatter 

Diverts me from my purpose. To the point : 

The time, as Hamlet said, is out of joint. 



And I perhaps was born to set it right, 
A fact I greet with perfect equanimity. 

I do not put it down to " cursed spite " : 
I don't see any cause for cursing in it : I 

Have always taken very great delight 

In such pursuits since first I read divinity : 

Whoever will may write a nation's songs 

As long as I'm allowed to right its wrongs. 



51 

^^'hat's Eton but a nursery of wrong-righters, 

A mighty mother of effective men, 
A training-ground for amateur reciters, 

A sharpener of the sword as of the pen, 
A factory of orators and fighters, 

A forcing-house of genius ? Now and then, 
The world at large shrinks back, abashed and beaten, 
Unable to endure the glare of Eton. 

I think I said I knew a man : what then ? 

I don't suppose such knowledge is forbid : 
We nearly all do, more or less, know men, — 

Or think we do : nor will a man get rid 
Of that delusion, while he wields a pen : 

But who this man was, what, if aught, he did, 
Nor why I mentioned him, I do not know : 
Nor what I " wished to say " a while ago. 

The Paraclnitc, Eton. July 30, 1889. 



VII. Of A. H. C. 



The Literary and Scientific Society. 

ye musical nine, who drink the CastaHan waters, 
Seated on peaks of Olympus (or, if ye prefer it, 

Olumpos, — 
Browning's a far better judge of the matter than 

yours very truly — ), 
Pray be so good as to give me assistance, — for, 

tho' I'm a poet, 

1 should be glad to receive a certain amount of 

assistance — , 
Give me your help while I sing how Smith, on the 

4th of December, 
Did us the honour to read a paper entitled 

" Pompeii," 
In a Society whose name defies the restriction of 

metre. 



Scarce need we tell of his fervour, research, 
erudition and learning. 
These we must all have observed for ourselves, or at 

all events heard of, 
Heard of from President Pashley, our eloquent 
President Pashley, 



53 

— Please to observe the effect of a skilfully cooked 

repetition, 
Copied from Homer and Clough and a host of 

hexameter heroes, — 
Nor will we trouble our readers with all the parti- 
culars, — pictures. 
Writings on walls and the like : but this we will 

say, that Sir Walter, 
G. P. R. James and Lord Lytton must yield him 

the palm in description. 
When he described how a skeleton dove had been 

found at Pompeii, 
Found on a skeleton egg, we all of us wept in a 

chorus. 



When he had done, and the weepers had wept, 
and the stamping was over, 
Pashley arose, and he made some remarks in the 

usual fashion ; 
" This was an excellent paper, he seldom had heard 

such a good one, 
"Yet there was one little thing he should like to 

make just one remark on, 
" One little point where he did not agree with the 

reader's opinion, 
" One little question on which Mr Smith should 

have scarcely been silent " : 
Several more little points, and several more little 

questions, 



54 

Several more little things and so on and so on 

and so on. 
Not that I wish to deny that his speech was ex- 
ceedingly clever, 
Or that we all of us paid him the greatest and 

deepest attention. 
He was immediately followed by Tatham (N.B. to 

the printer ; 
Do not omit to put all proper names in capital 

letters, 
Partly because it looks well and smacks of the 

penny-a-liner, 
Partly to comfort our friends when we cannot 

afford them a Mr) : 
Much information he gave concerning a building 

he'd heard of, 
Five were its doors and its size 250 x 80. 
Jones was the next to arise ; and he made us a 

crushing oration, 
Crushing, but pointless withal, like a seventy-ton 

steam hammer, 
(Study that last line well, observe the onomatopoeia). 
Crushed Mr Smith with a hint that he had not 

neglected his Bulwer. 



Then Mr Wayte held forth, and his eloquence 
vied with his learning ; 
Oh for the tongue, or the pen or the pencil or 
something of some one, 



55 

Some one of fame, who was known from his youth 

as a friend of the Muses, 
Then I might try to depict what was really the 

speech of the evening. 
Now it is useless to try : we will only repeat his 

suggestion ; — 
If to Pompeii you go, he sure that you go on a 

Sunday. 



Last Mr Shuckburgh spoke, and his speech was 
extremely delightful. 
Touching on books and the like : we wish we had 
time to report it. 

Etonian, i6 Dec, 1885. 



56 



VIII. Of W. S. {Sir). 

The Hundred Yards Race. 

You ask me for a prophecy 
About the hundred : I reply 
That man can do no more than try; 
And so commence and cast about 
To find the lucky athletes out. 
The goddess of the football field 
Some valuable hints may yield : 
Inured to grisly war's alarms : 
She knows of many a feat of arms, 
Full many a tale has she to tell 
Of those who nobly fight and well : 
'Twas hers to sing the artful J., 
Whose progress nothing could delay : 
Twas hers to sing Hunt's reckless rush 
Through flooded fields and slimy slush, 
The while with gentle words he tried 
To win like prowess from his side. 
These, and a host of such as they, 
She sings no longer, sad to say : 

But champions still remain 
Who furnish many a glorious theme 
Until the past doth almost seem 

To live in them again. 



57 

For now the war-like goddess sings, 
Obedient to my questionings, 
Of Douglas's unrivalled grace, 
Of Elliot foremost in the race, 
And Stephen's more majestic pace : 
Of Chitty's meteoric flight. 
And Anderson as swift as light ; 
Hawke's rapid swoop upon the ball, 
^Vellesley who never tires at all 

Whate'er of toil betide : 
Macaulay's oft repeated bound, 
Swift Bayley's feet that shun the ground, 

The Professorial stride : 
Of Bryan Farrer fast as strong, 
Of Lawrence' limbs so lithe and long, 
Of Booth's wild gallop in the van. 

She sings the deathless praise : 
How stoutly Polhill-Turner ran. 
How Spring-Rice flashed across the field. 
How Peirse was never known to yield. 

She tells in stirring lays : 
She tells in frightened periods 
How Ridley's steps disturbed the infernal gods 
But hold ! my muse is running wild 

On this too stirring theme : 
It was her weakness from a child ; 
Excuse it, gentle reader, pray. 
Now from her eyes I dare to say 

Prophetic flashes gleam. 



58 

Put not, rash man, thy hopes in all 

Who can pursue the flying ball : 

Not all of these shall dare to run 

When fate reserves the prize for one : 

Or if it shall most kindly be 

Can never favour more than three. 

Not all that I have named shall strive 

The deadly struggle to survive : 

Smith may despise all worldly pelf, 

Start others but not start himself; 

And Chitty may be turned reporter 

In Hundred, hurdle race and Quarter, 

And with his note-book scour the plain 

With Chronicle upon the brain. 

Yet some will start : and now we reach 

The wisdom I design to teach : 

My task I quickly will dispose of. 

There are but three your prophet knows of 

Who may be safely backed for places 

In this, the shortest of the races, 

Macaulay, Lawrence, Elliot these 

Are they : the order if you please 

I'll leave to you, and so remain 

Yours truly till we meet again, 

Poeta Etonensis qui 

Stipendiuin meret Chronicli. 

Eton Colh\qe Chronicle, Nov., 1877. 



59 



IX. Of IV. S. (Mr). 



For Greek Iamiucs. 

I'e. Not so, my liege, for even now the town 
Splits with sedition, and the incensed mob 
Rush hither roaring. 

0/r. Let them roar their fill, 

Bluster and bellow till the enormous wings 
Of gusty Boreas flap with less ado. 
Ask they my treacherous nephew's wretched life, 
As if that order were a thing of nought 
Which I did publish ? Let them beg or threaten, 
I'll not regard them. Oh my trusty friend, 
There is no rock defies the elements, 
With half the constancy that kinglike men 
Shut up their breasts against such routs as these. 

Fe. O my most valiant lord, I feel 'tis so. 
Permit me to advance against the foe. 

(Ckis and Terranea, Act iv., .Sc. iii.) 
E/on Ravibler, July, 1880. 



6o 



X. 'OMHPOY. 



The Hurdles and Quarter of a Mile. 

Ets NoTtov Aetjuwi/a Oeacrofxevot Trore 'Paxoi)? 
rjXOov 'Ercovatoi ju-era SwScKa* TrpojTos ei/ arrois 
Tpr]to<; rjv FpeVc^tWos, os ^v Bodtwi/ KaTrraii/os, 
^av/tacTTOs KaTTTTO), Kttt yav^v TToAv (f)epT€po<; aA.A.(oi/. 
Tov TTepicarrjcrav (tvv rots Ka.v€(Tui 2veXXot, 
ct'p;^ovTes 8?7/AOV, Kr]TTop^€pi(TovT(.<; ofxtXov. 
ivTavO r]v 2/xt^eus, (3wXiaTtjpu)i' piv apt(rTO^, 
(ii\TL(TTO<s T avSpwv Srj^aTOvvTOiv ivl IIoTrTrw. 

avrap KoXXeyepwi/ rjpxoi' S/^i^cSs re yueyiCTTOS, 
Ktti /xera TovSe MaKauXetos Bptavos %T€<fiav6<; re, 
/cat BvppoOs, i7po)s t OueXXcrXtos, 'OpxiVto's re, 
Kat 2:rptyypetKios ov KaXeoucriv KoXXeyepot ^^P^^y^- 
TcovS ap' aV 'H^avtoto Sop.wi' cru XtTrios ^PX^?) 
Kttt Kpo^TO? (^iXepcT/iOS ^l(t>(n]<j> t ' Av8r]pa(jov7]<;. 
AoSSatwj/ rjp^ov fieTa SatSaXeoKTi KvXiZpcn, 
AouyXatrtoio ^I'r; Kat K.vp^over)<; 'Oparajp. 
Kat Trapa Ki^rcrXai'Oto iraprju ^avSaxp.av iy(2pp.o<;, 
KaX<^epros re /xaxpos {3r]atv8oi oltt AtVyepos avXwv. 
Tcuv Ka/AT^povtW yjpx^^ SruSSets KptKerypoi, 

EXXtorr^s Twi/ Mtx'jXcoj'' crw Iliypcrt 7ro8w/cet. 
'Ap^tos 'AXatwv Tjpxf-v Jlap)(TJpo^' ofxov 8' 'Ys 
'PtSXeto? cTL'v BatXcto! /Atm rpctof ettoi/to 
AaXrdriScs. MtXXcts cruv FXatiKt 8o'/aoi;s 'Iukw^ov 

ApTovpov Xlttov, ot$ Kttt IlovcrovySatos craipos. 



6i 

TovaSe filv 'ApTovpo<;, irapa KrjKrjov 8' 'la/cco'^ou 

AauAevs Kol FptoAevs kul firjv 'AptavAos CTrovTO. 

TOtoCroi Travres KaXfiwar ojAcr^vAtos ot^Aos 

CIS NoTtOV Act/AtOVa TTOCTIV paTTtSoiS i(j)€pOVTO 

o\pop.(VOL 'VaKovs Kttt ^a/ATTiovas )(r]povvT€<;. 

tvvcne MoGcra tottovs twv i/ikwvto^v ei't 'PaKOi;, 
oO;^ 'E/carov — (T/xiKpov 'PaKov (TjXLKpoiui TrpocjirJTaLS, 
Hoprepov ipSvXiuJvTe ere Bu fxoi TLinrea Sovvai, 

w ^aAtTrw ^aAcTTov Aovpevrf] co-crerai ourpai' 

€V ^AaTTW PaKW 8oAt;(00"Kl01/* EAAtOTTJS Se 

ov TToAu cAajicov, iy Ktti <^ao"Teo"T€pos tcrrai. 
y^Se rpiTOS MtAAeis earai, ctkovAAoictiv apicrros, 
?;e MaKavAcios <f>iXo(fir]Xhy]<; Koi (j>LXoT€L)(r]?. 

Koprepos i'tprjTai' vvv vpSvXiov; brjcrKpifSw. 
TrpojTos T EAAtoTv^s, rjpuis T Oue'AAcrAtos ecrTat 
SeiJTepos, i78€ rptVo?, SoAii^oVkios cb Aovpn'Trj, 
€1 yu.7^ VTrTpi(fi9€L<; Tots vpovXiOLcri, yivrjcrn. 

aAAa XpoFtKAei'ovs ctu )U,€v 'HSiVop -jroXvTXrjpov, 
Tpicn7d(TcreLV iv (Tolcrt f^aXvafiaXa1(XL koXv{xvo.1<; 
(fiaivofxai aVAeyy^oJs, kAcivos Trep etoi' ■7roL7]Tr]<;. 
ToiavT ovv AetVw 'PtjStjPOis i^Se Kptrttiv. 
'YfJ-iT€po<; T€ fxivM criyKrypws Pojotos Oprjpov. 

Eton College Chronicle, Nov. 1877. 

A'b/(?. The heroes referred to in this poem are : 
Grenville Grey {Dalton^s). 

Smith, Macaulay, Bryan James, Stephen, Burrows, Wellesley, 
Hawkins, Spring Rice {K. 6'.). 

Chitty, Croft, Joseph Anderson {Evanses). 
Lawrence {Lnxinorre's). 



62 



Douglas, Curzon (I Volley Dad's). 

Sandeman, Calvert, G. B. Stuck!, C. T. Stuck! {Cameron'' s). 

Elliot, Beresford Peine (Mitcheirs). 

Parker (Hale's). 

l^idley (Pig), Bailey (Daltoi/'s). 

Mills, Harvey (Owl), Ponsonby [Arthur James's), 

Lawley, Gridley, Henry Hall (C. C. James's). 



THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE 
EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY, ERRORS 
OF JUDGMENT, IMPROMPTUS, &c. 



65 



To ^V. H. 

What are the habits of the ruby flood 

We reek with ? man had questioned many a year : 

And WilHam Harvey spoke in accents clear 

These words : " the circulation of the blood." 

Man owned that this was so, and asked for food ; 

And fate bestowed upon him beef and beer : 

But beef was coarse, indelicate and sere : 

So Harvey proffered Sauce and made it good. 

My friend ! be worthy of thy forbears' glory. 

And if old truths thou canst not rediscover. 

Yet canst thou live those truths out here on earth 

Make stagnant conversations, void of mirth, 

To circulate with quip and crank and story, 

Make hfe's dull dish with piquant sauce run over. 

July 1882. 



S. 



66 



4th July, 1882, Malines. Midnight. 



Belgian, with cumbrous tread and iron boots, 
Who in the murky middle of the night, 
Designing to renew the foul pursuits 
In which thy life is passed, ill-favoured wight. 
And wishing on the platform to alight 
Where thou couldst mingle with thjf fellow brutes, 
Didst walk the carriage floor (a leprous sight), 
As o'er the sky some baleful meteor shoots : 
Upon my slippered foot thou didst descend, 
Didst rouse me from my slumbers mad with pain. 
And laughedst loud for several minutes' space. 
Oh may'st thou suffer tortures without end : 
May fiends with glowing pincers rend thy brain. 
And beetles batten on thy blackened face ! 



67 



Ballade of the Drowning Fusee. 



The pipe I intend to consume 

Is full, and fairly alight: 
It scatters a fragrant perfume, 

Blue smoke-wreaths are heaving in sight: 

I sink on the heathery height, 
And lo ! there is borne unto me 

From a sweet little stream on my right 
The song of the drowning fusee. 

The monarch of waterfowl, whom 
On the brink of an infinite night 

A strange irresistible doom 
Converts to a musical wight, 
Is akin, in his glory's despite. 

To a moribund match, as we see. 
While we listen, in speechless delight. 

To the song of the drowning fusee. 

5—2 



68 



As he sinks in his watery tomb, 

His epitaph let me indite. 
He hardly took up any room ; 

His life was retired ; his end bright. 

With destiny no one can fight 
All poets and prosers agree, 

And a tribute to destiny's might 
Is the song of the drowning fusee. 



Friend ! would you be gratified quite 
The first of our poets to be? 

If so, I advise you to write 

The song of the drowning fusee. 

Reflector, Jan., \i 



69 



The Ballade of the Incompetent 
Ballade-Monger. 



I am not ambitious at all : 

I am not a poet, I know 
(Though I do love to see a mere scrawl 

To order and symmetry grow). 

My muse is uncertain and slow, 
I am not expert with my tools, 

I lack the poetic argot: 
But I hope I have kept to the rules. 



When your brain is undoubtedly small, 

'Tis hard, sir, to write in a row. 
Some five or six rhymes to Nepaul, 

And more than a dozen to Joe : 

The metre is easier though. 
Three rhymes are sufificient for ' ghouls,' 

My lines are deficient in go, 
But I hope I have kept to the rules. 



70 

Unable to fly let me crawl, 

Your patronage kindly bestow : 
I am not the author of Saul, 

I am not Voltaire or Rousseau : 

I am not desirous, oh no ! 
To rise from the ranks of the fools, 

To shine with Gosse, Dobson and Co. 
But I hope I have kept to the rules. 



Dear Sir, though my language is low, 
Let me dip in Pierian pools : 

My verses are only so so, 

But I hope I have kept to the rules. 

Reflector, Feb., li 



71 



Triolets Ollendorfiens. 

Je suis le frere 
Du bon cocher : 
Oil est sa mere ? 
Je suis le frere. 
Tu es le pere 
Du jardinjer : 
Je suis le frere 
Du bon cocher. 

Oil est mon canif? 
J'ai perdu ma chatte. 
Je veux du rosbif. 
Oil est mon canif? 
J'ai tue le Juif. 
Faut-il qu'on se batte ? 
Oil est mon canif? 
J'ai perdu ma chatte. 

La belle cousine 
Du fils de ma bru 
Vit dans ma cuisine, 
La belle cousine ! 
Ta laide voisine 
N'a jamais connu 
La belle cousine 
Du fils de ma bru. 

Reflector, Feb., 1888. 



72 



To D. J. S. 

I. Written on the Fly-Leaf of Treasure 
Island by a " Hesitating Purchaser." 



It sounds magnificent : but then 

Perhaps I am a little old, 
To buy a tale of lawless men, 

Who scuttle ships and bury gold. 

Yet still I love a pirate crew. 
Still dote upon a buccaneer ; 

I'll buy the book, and read it through, 
And pass it on to you, my dear. 



73 



2. Written on the Fly-Leaf of Maclise's 
Portrait Gallery, Edited by Bates. 

Here, painted by a Master's hand, 

Is many a lovely dame. 
Amidst the writers of the land 

Who gained the greatest fame. 

But sure there is not one whose pen 

Was half so apt as thine 
To catch the ears of listening men, 

Or wake the Sacred Nine. 

None saw reflected in her glass 

A more distinguished face : 
But thou art born too late, alas ! 

To take thy proper place. 

The pencil of Maclise, my dear, 

Thy face will ne'er portray, 
Nor will the facts of thy career 

Be told by Bates, B.A. 

Yet do not hence a pretext seize 

To blame the cruel Fates : 
If they denied thee to Maclise, 

They rescued thee from Bates. 



74 



The Philosopher and the Philanthropist. 



Searching an infinite Where, 
Probing a bottomless When, 

Dreamfully wandering, 

Ceaselessly pondering, 
What is the Wherefore of men ; 
Bartering life for a There, 
Selling his soul for a Then, 

Baffling obscurity, 

Conning futurity, 
Usefulest, wisest of men ! 

Grasping the Present of Life, 
Seizing a definite Now, 

Labouring thornfully, 

Banishing scornfully 
Doubts of his Whither and How : 
Spending his substance in Strife, 
Working a practical How, 

Letting obscurity 

Rest on futurity, 
Usefuler, wiser, I trow. 

Published in Oitt of School at Eton, 1878. 



75 



The Critic's Speech. 



"Just the book to review!" the critic cried, 

The Chase of the Snark to wit, 
While his audience pressed round him on every 
side, 

To hear his opinion of it. 

"They read it with glasses, they read it with care, 

They peruse it again and again, 
They ruin their health beyond repair, 

And they give themselves Snark on the brain. 

" But what are the charms of this curious tale, 
Which attract such a numerous band, 

Or why it obtains so extensive a sale, 
I could never at all understand. 

"The reader who looks through his various books 

Five characteristics will mark, 
Which always belong, Vjoth in prose and in song. 

To the author of ' Hunting the Snark.' 

" The first is the binding : especially that 

Of the book we presume to review. 
On which is depicted a watery flat 

Of a sickly cadaverous hue. 



76 

" That he's most inconsistent, I think you'll agree, 

When he dares to assert it as true, 
That the rudder gets mixed with the bowsprit at 
sea, 

Or that birds can be salted in glue. 

" The third is his manner of making a jest, 
Which is quite and entirely his own, 

And he seeks after witty remarks with a zest 
That might find the philosopher's stone. 

"The fourth is the way that he sticks to a word, 
Such as beamish, galumph, and the rest. 

Which he thinks is amusing as well as absurd. 
An opinion I beg to contest. 

" The fifth is pure folly. It now will be just 

To describe each particular vein. 
Distinguishing ' fits ' which appal and disgust, 

From ' fits ' which are simply inane. 

" For though much is as pointless as can be de- 
sired, 

I'm exceedingly sorry to say 
That Kenealy — " the critic abruptly retired, 

For his audience had melted away. 

Out of School at Eton. 



// 



To MY Friend's Wife 

(reading Murray s Jlfagazinc). 

Men talk, men work, men glow, men live, men die, 
Peal at the ear and lighten in the eye : 

A\'hile woman, wedded to a magazine, 

Turns one cold eye upon the maddening scene. 



78 



Time's Revenges. 

She broke my heart, as women do 
Harm to harm-doers oft recurs ; 

It happened, in a year or two, 
That I broke hers. 



79 



KoLN, 5 yuly, 1882. 6.30 A.M. 

Fair morning sun ! bright monarch of the East ! 

Thou joy and solace of the human heart, 
Who comfortest the greatest and the least, — 

How wonderful, how very fair thou art ! 

Fair to the horny-handed sons of toil 

Who, if they mean to have their daily bread. 

Must ply their trade or plough the unyielding soil 
When greasy citizens are still abed. 

Fair to the Bard, who oft at early dawn 

Observes the op'ning flow'rs and soaring larks, 

And naturally seeks an upland lawn 

Whereon to make poetical remarks. 

Fairest to toil-worn travellers who see 

The hard-earned bed display its varied charms: 
"Breakfast at 12!" they cry: and seek with glee 

A long repose in Morpheus' downy arms. 



8o 



To A Friend. 



Whene'er I wander through the well-known fields, 
Or guide my boat down the familiar stream, 
And taste the joys which recollection yields, 
When youth's delights are but a fading dream, 
Where Windsor's keep his hoary head doth lift, 
I'll think upon your gift. 

And when you have occasion to refer 

To Mr Browning's justly famous verses, 

A thing which may from time to time occur, 

To save one's giving vent to tears and curses, 

(Although you may not catch the poet's drift) 

You'll think upon my gift. 

Feb., 1 89 1. 



A Thought. 

If all the harm that women have done 
Were put in a bundle and rolled into one, 

Earth would not hold it, 

The sky could not enfold it, 
It could not be lighted nor warmed by the sun ; 

Such masses of evil 

Would puzzle the devil 
And keep him in fuel while Time's wheels run. 

But if all the harm that's been done by men 
Were doubled and doubled and doubled again. 
And melted and fused into vapour and then 
Were squared and raised to the power of ten. 
There wouldn't be nearly enough, not near, 
To keep a small girl for a tenth of a year. 

The Granta, Feb. i8yi. 



82 



Lines at the River Side. 

Shelving hozv the Poet was unfortunately disappointed 
of a most Tragic Theme. 

'Tis but a work of the loom, 

'Tis but a shawl on the grass, 

'Tis but a remnant, alas ! 
Remnant of what and of whom ? 

Surely some victim of woe 

Left it to bleach on the brink. 

Left it to plunge and to sink 
Under the waters below. 

Doubt, hesitation and fear, 

Madness, delusion, despair. 

All of them culminate there. 
There by the swift rushing weir. 

Was it a husband she fled. 

Drunken, of reason bereft? 

Was it a child that she left 
Peaceful and pale in its bed ? 

Rash was the folly, I trow. 

Vice got the best of the strife. 

One little moment of life ! 
What would she give for it now? 

Ha ! what has shattered it all ? 

How is my muse disarray'd ? 

Only a nursery maid 
Come back to look for her shawl. 

Out of School at Eton. 



83 



" Facilis Descensus Averni." 

When I was new and all unspoiled, 

O how I loved examinations ! 
With what unflagging zeal I toiled ! 
With what incessant labour soiled 
My books ! how high my spirit boiled ! 

Till — notwithstanding regulations — 
At times the surreptitious oil 'd 

Assist my midnight lucubrations : 
And how my very soul recoiled 
At any thought of being foiled 

By other people's machinations. 

Thus, thus the unsuspecting youth 

Sets forth upon the task of life, 
His zeal for seeking abstract truth 

Is sharpened by his love of strife ; 
High rise his hopes — his earliest half 
Gleig's Wellington in yellow calf, 
And Creasy's Battles, side by side, 
Excite his own, his parents' pride. 

But hopes are vain, pride hollow : 
The sequel of my tale abide. 

And mark what needs must follow. 



84 

So hard on one another's heels 

The blithe examinations troop, 
That soon the young enthusiast feels 

Like flowers do that droop, and droop — 
And then a tempest of despair 
Sweeps over him : his only care 
Is now to find some brilliant, rare. 

And quite unprecedented blunders, 
To clear the dull scholastic air, 

And startle Academic thunders. 

Then comes the melancholy, vain, 
And hopeless struggle to regain 

His old unsullied reputation : 
Abortive efforts to attain 

Impossible regeneration : 
And, when the last collapse is plain, 
No earthly solace doth remain. 

Except to launch an imprecation 
That only is not quite profane 
Against the author of his pain. 
Who brings all evils in his train. 
The friend of sloth, ambition's bane. 

The master fiend, Examination. 

Eton Rambler, May \%th, 1880. 



85 



Early School. 

If there is a vile, pernicious, 

Wicked and degraded rule, 
Tending to debase the vicious, 

And corrupt the harmless fool ; 
If there is a hateful habit 

Making man a senseless tool, 
With the feelings of a rabbit, 

And the wisdom of a mule : 
It's the rule which inculcates, 
Its the habit which dictates. 
The wrong and sinful practice of going into school. 

If there's anything improving 

To an erring sinner's state. 
Which is useful in removing 

All the ills of human fate : 
If there's any glorious custom 

Which our faults can dissipate. 
And can casually thrust 'em 

Out of sight, and make us great : 
It's the plan by which we shirk 
Half our matutinal work, 
The glorious institution of always being late. 

Out of School at Eton. 



86 



Lines written at "Private." 



It's very dull no doubt 

Hearing Whalley prate, 
Dull to hear Kenealy spout 

When he grows irate, 
Dull to be harangued about 

Nuns by Newdegate. 
Very dull is all of this, 

Very dull and dry, 
But it is surpassed, I wis, 

Most completely by 
" Caii Julii Caesaris 

Commentarii." 

Out of School at Eton. 



37 

An Election Address. 

(To Cambridge University, 1882.) 

I venture to suggest that I 

Am rather noticeably fit 
To hold the seat illumined by 

The names of Palmerston and Pitt. 

My principles are such as you 

Have often heard expressed before : 

They are, without exception, true; 

And who can say, with candour, more ? 

My views concerning Church and State 
Are such as Bishops have professed : 

I need not recapitulate 

The arguments on which they rest. 

Respecting Ireland, I opine 

That Ministers are in a mess. 

That landlords rule by right divine. 

That Firmness will remove Distress. 

I see with horror undisguised 

That freedom of debate is dead : 

The Liberals are organised : 

The Caucus rears its hideous head. 

Yet need'st thou, England, not despair 

At Chamberlain's or Gladstone's pride, 

While Henry Cecil Raikes is there 
To orcranise the other side. 



88 

I never quit, as others do, 

Political intrigue, to seek 
The dingy literary crew. 

Or hear the voice of science speak. 

But I have fostered, guided, planned 
Commercial enterprise : in me 

Some ten or twelve directors and 

Six worthy chairmen you may see. 

My academical career 

Was free from any sort of blot : 
I challenge anybody here 

To demonstrate that it was not. 

At classics too I worked amain, 
Whereby I did not only pass, 

But even managed to obtain 
A very decent second class. 

And since those early days, the same 

Success has crowned the self-same plan; 

Profundity I cannot claim : 
Respectability I can. 

Pall Mall Gazette, Nov. 27, 1882. 



CAMBRIDGE : PRINTED BY C. J. CLAV, M. A., & SONS, AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. 



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